Dance of Curse
by OpalWings
Summary: *Re-worked* A tormented heartbeat echoes in the late-night contemplations of five different characters, caught up in the battle for Gaea. Featuring Van, Folken, Hitomi, Allen and Dilandu.
1. Van: Killing Dance

**Title:** **Dance of Curse -- Van [Killing Dance]**

**Author:** Jessica Lynn S. (starsapphirez@aol.com)

**Rating:** PG-13 for violent content, heavy themes and some language as well.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own or claim to own Escaflowne, or anything from it. However, I have worked hard on this story, so please do not take it for any purpose without my permission. There are some spoilers here for those who have not seen the entire series; read at your own risk.

**Summary:** Set mid-series, a common heartbeat of torment echoes in the late-night contemplations of five different characters, caught up in the battle for Gaea. Featuring Van, Folken, Hitomi, Allen and Dilandu. 

**Note:** This story started with two companion pieces, posted seperately. They were entitled "Fatal", which featured some tormented contemplation from Folken's point of view, and "Dance of Curse", which was Van's side of the story. I decided that both were too short to stand on their own, so I re-worked them into this, adding three chapters from the minds of other characters. The chronology of the events may be a little off, but I figure that this happens sometime during the period where everyone is in Freid. Exploring the story and situation through the eyes of each unique character was a challenge which I thouroughly enjoyed.

I changed Van's chapter a little bit; mostly just adding to it, lengthening it and fixing small grammar errors involving the possessive of "it." Thank you very much to the reviewer who pointed that out to me, for having the courage to do so. Otherwise I never would have realized it... Anyway, I'm rambling. So here's the story, already!

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I wander the halls alone, for I cannot sleep. I will probably be wandering still when the bloody red orb of the sun peeks over the horizon to begin a new day. I am acutely aware of every sound in the night, from the chirping of crickets to the rat that scurries along the wall, and a man who snores in the distance. My hand rests on the hilt of my sword. If I hear footsteps - of human or guymelef origin - it will be drawn. Sleep never comes easily anymore. The adrenaline pumps through my veins at all hours of the day and night in anticipation of the next battle. There always seems to be another battle right around the corner. Zaibach is relentless in their efforts to take from me what little is left; what little they haven't already taken. If they can, they will take Escaflowne, the lives of my friends, and probably my life as well. Hitomi says she is cursed by her visions. She does not know what true curse is. 

It is that adrenaline that sustains me now, the force of my anger and resolve lifts me above a sea of pain in which I would otherwise drown. My kingdom is gone, burnt to the ground. Balgus - my teacher and most trusted advisor - is gone, along with the other three Samurai of Fanelia and almost everyone I knew. I am grateful that Merle escaped unscathed, but that relief is a painfully small one. As long as Zaibach continues along its path of destruction, she is not out of danger, nor is anyone on Gaea. What troubles me even more is that my brother sides with the forces behind this unspeakable carnage. My brother who would have been king. 

As a child I admired him, and trusted him unconditionally. Even after he was gone, I believed that he had died fighting the dragon; that he had not deliberately turned his back on us. One would think that he would have been satisfied with breaking that trust. One would think he'd be satisfied with running away from his duties and leaving his burden resting squarely upon my shoulders, but apparently that wasn't enough for him. He had to go and help to create this mess which I may not live long enough to clean up. 

He claims that he is fighting a holy war of sorts; a war to end all wars. I do not know how he could ever be so stupid as to give in to such false and idealistic notions. As one who shares my blood he should know better, but he claims his cause is worthwhile enough to destroy even his own country. I think it's just that he takes pleasure in trying to break me in every way he can. Well, I will take great pleasure in dismembering every one of his limbs with the blade of my sword and then leaving him to die in a pool of blood. He enjoys the benefits of his treason; while I must pay the price. But I will see to it that he knows that price as well, if it is the last thing I do in this world. I will kill that sick, twisted bastard Dilandu as well, though perhaps his death will be swifter and more merciful. 

Hitomi says she worries for me, because all I think about anymore is killing . Perhaps she thinks me cold and heartless, but I do not kill because I have no heart. Rather, I kill because of my heart, which beats with the desire for justice. I kill to avenge the lives of every man, woman and child lost in Fanelia. I kill so that the few left in its ruins can see their country rebuilt. I kill to protect all the people of the countries which have not yet fallen and I kill to protect those few for whom I truly care. I kill so that I can keep my promise to Hitomi to return her to the Mystic Moon.. 

Perhaps this is the curse of the Draconian blood which pulses hot through my veins, or perhaps it is simply the burden of my royal heritage. Ruling a country is never easy, but why must it be so hard? Moments of peace and of happiness are fleeting, as the struggle for survival always lies ahead. With each new day and each passing moment, this war is left unfinished. I put my own life at risk so that others may live, just as Allen had once told me a true warrior does. For who will do it, if I won't? Who will for Fanelia if it's king cannot? This is my curse. 


	2. Folken: Dying Dance

**Title:** **Dance of Curse -- Folken [Dying Dance]**

**Author:** Jessica Lynn S. (starsapphirez@aol.com)

**Rating:** PG-13 for violent content, heavy themes and some language as well.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own or claim to own Escaflowne, or anything from it. However, I have worked hard on this story, so please do not take it for any purpose without my permission. There are some spoilers here for those who have not seen the entire series; read at your own risk.

**Summary:** Set mid-series, a common heartbeat of torment echoes in the late-night contemplations of five different characters, caught up in the battle for Gaea. Featuring Van, Folken, Hitomi, Allen and Dilandu. 

**Note:** The only things changed here from when it was the story "Fatal" are minor grammatical corrections. This chapter, and Dilandu's, were by far the most interesting to write. 

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Black feathers fall without a sound to the stainless steel floor, their loss unmourned. I walk down the long and chaotic corridors. I know full-well what future the feathers allude to. What should have come to pass ten years ago is catching up with me. Fate has taken a detour, but is coming full-circle nonetheless. The foundations of my cause shiver slightly in the wind. My reflection warps in the face of dented metal doorways, and the truth wavers before my eyes like a mirage. Finally, it just reaffirms that we need the dragon or all will be lost. Without it's power my death will pass without the shackles of fate being unlocked, and fate's heavy ball and chain will continue to weigh down this world with sorrow. If only I could lift the burdens of destiny, my death would not be in vain. My life itself means nothing to me anymore; only its purpose. The purpose of my mind and body to serve as a vehicle for Dornkirk's vision. What are we, the citizens of Zaibach, other than lost children who would have slipped through the cracks of the universe without Dornkirk's intervention?

I hold in my hands a flickering candle. I can see only inches beyond it's flame. Drops of wax run down its sides like the tears. The wells of my eyes are dry, crying only ghost tears now, invisible and intangible to the world around me. Their constant passing is commemorated by the oblong teardrop tattooed permanently beneath my right eye. The tear is for so much; for people and countries torn apart by war, for twin catgirls who would rather die than be enslaved by the people who brutally killed their families. For dragons slain in rites of passage, and a sad-eyed child who longed to know why. Why a boy must kill to become a man; to become a king. Most of all, the tear is for that boy, who shares my cursed blood.

His eyes pain me still, when he hisses that I am no brother of his. The sting of the words should not even begin to puncture the surface of my emotions, for he is only mislead, yet they somehow cut me deeper than any blade. The anger that burns like a thousand torches in his eyes wasn't there when we played in the fields outside the castle in the days before father fell ill. Then, his eyes reflected only his innocent and gentle soul. When father died, the world we knew was shattered like glass and scattered like falling leaves to wind and water. Mother was not herself anymore. She spent long hours alone in the starlit courtyard, wings extended to the sky. Her eyes were always distant, and slowly her feathers grayed.

Van was plagued by nightmares. He would seek me out in my chambers in the early hours of the morning, tears glinting in trails down cheeks. I would wrap my arms around him and let him cry to his heart's content, trying to reassure him. To Van, and myself, I would vow with all my heart to become a good king. I said that I would serve my family and my country just as well as father had and lead Fanelia into a new era of prosperity. He would look at me then; and though red and swollen from crying, his sleepy eyes would glisten with hope. My royal aspirations were torn from me with my right arm, when I failed to slay the dragon, and that hope was torn away from Van. I became nothing but an elusive shadow of the past to him. He had wanted to believe I'd died with honor. I heard tell that Mother had wandered away into the woods to search for me, never to return. I can only assume that was where she died, to be reunited with father once more. Van was alone in the universe.

Great sorrow had befallen my family, but as king of Fanelia, I would only have rained down more of that sorrow upon the world with the sword of a guymelef. I would have only continued to feed the great circle of suffering which wraps itself around Gaea like a constricting serpent. I regret all the years lost, but it is better this way. I wish Van could understand that. I wish he could see why I want him to join me. My promises are no longer for a great Fanelia, but for all of this world and the people in it. Yet somehow these promises hold no comfort to the young man he has become. No matter the lengths to which I go to explain Dornkirk's vision, Van wants to know why I've abandoned my country, why I've abandoned him.

I think that perhaps I lie to myself, for there is something more I desire; a deep ache beneath my stoic features which time and reason will not abate. I do what I have to, fulfilling my duties without complaint, for it is in the best interests of all. But if only I could, there is one thing for which I would sacrifice all the perfection Zaibach strives for in an instant. There is nothing I want more in this world than for my brother to love me. 


	3. Hitomi: Dancing Visions

**Title:** **Dance of Curse -- Hitomi [Dancing Visions]**

**Author:** Jessica Lynn S. (starsapphirez@aol.com)

**Rating:** PG-13 for violent content, heavy themes and some language as well.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own or claim to own Escaflowne, or anything from it. However, I have worked hard on this story, so please do not take it for any purpose without my permission. There are some spoilers here for those who have not seen the entire series; read at your own risk.

**Summary:** Set mid-series, a common heartbeat of torment echoes in the late-night contemplations of five different characters, caught up in the battle for Gaea. Featuring Van, Folken, Hitomi, Allen and Dilandu. 

**Note:** As much as I like Hitomi, this chapter wasn't much of a challenge, considering we see the entire series through her point of view. Generally we already know exactly how she feels about things, and for the most part I am just repeating it, with embellishments...ah well. She's the only female I've included in this story. I do not feel like getting into the whole Aston sisters thing (I go into that enough in Allen's chapter...) and I really don't think Merle is suffering too much. All she ever does is worry about Van. Don't get me wrong though, I like Merle well enough. I suppose I could've wrote from Naria and Eriya's perspective, but they are practically the same person. How do you write from two people's viewpoints at once? 

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I stare out of the window and into the dark sky. My home planet hovers there, amongst the many stars. I wonder about my family. I wonder about Yukari, Amano, my other classmates and even my teachers. I am sure they are worried about me. I wonder if it's been so long now that they have given up hope for my return. I wonder if I will be able to return. The tears well in my eyes and I bury my face in the windowsill. I can no longer bare to look at teh Earth. I feel as if I am on an island. I am waiting to wake up and find that this was all a dream; a horribly sad, frightening and lonely dream. I am afraid to sleep now, on the chance that another blood-drenched vision will wake me. But I know that the visions come whenever they please; whether I am sleeping or awake. I cannot stand the visions. I do not know why I am forced to see them. 

When one comes on, I feel nauseated, and the world spins dizzyingly around me. The sky is red and the heat is unbearable. Every sound is harsh, but nothing is louder than my own heartbeat, racing in fear of mortal danger. It is not simply a danger to myself, but a danger to everyone around me as well. A danger to these odd people whom I barely know. I see the pain and suffering of their existances. It tears me up inside. I do not want to see them hurt, and time and again I must fight to prevent it. I must run and tear someone from the path of oncoming danger. I dread the day when I may come a moment too late. Merle takes great delight in mocking me, pretending that she is plagued by horrible visions as well. 

Merle seems to resent me, actually so does Millernia. I haven't a female ally here. I do not understand. It is not as if I asked to be here, thrown in the middle of a war. I would give anything to be home. They say I am being irresponsible to be interested in two men, as if romance is my only concern here. I am not interested in two men. Van protects me but does little more. His actions are rash, and he has an almost suicidal bent to him. Beneath all his anger, he is hurting badly and it worries me to no end. Somehow, I understand him, and I do not wish for him to suffer. That is the extent of my feelings, I think... Allen, on the other hand, is very kind to me. He is noble and chivalrous, and his presence is so comforting. He is concerned for me and wants for me to be happy. I wish he was here right now, to hold me and calm my mind. Then I would not have to be so alone, so afraid. His smell is so warm and familiar, like Amano's... 

Oh hell, I am fickle! I thought I loved Amano, I was sure I loved Amano! What will Allen or Van matter to me, when I return home to Earth anyway? They will be nothing but memories, as out of reach as the stars. But right now, that is how home seems, equally out of reach. Don't I always speak of the power of the stars, repeating my grandmother's wisdom? What do I really know of those stars myself? What do I know of anything anymore? I was just an ordinary girl!! I did homework, took tests, and ran on the track team. I did tarot readings for my friends; readings about love and other small, petty things. They were usually accurate but they spoke nothing of war and turmoil as they do now. The fate of a world did not rest upon their ability to tell when an enemy would attack or which direction they would attack from. 

I wish I could go back to the warm and friendly faces and simplicity of that life I once knew. Being on this strange world is tearing me apart. What if I die here in the midst of a battle, or just end up trapped in this cycle of visions and torment for an eternity? I throw myself into the bed. I cannot bare to refer to it as "mine." It is mine for the night, and the blankets are warm. It is not my bed at home, however. It is not the bed that I miss with all my heart, and it feels hauntingly cold and empty. 

I pound my fists against the pillow in frustration, but I end up bringing it to my face to muffle the sound of the sobs which violently rattle my entire form. I cry long and hard until the tears will no longer come, and I settle into the covers in exhaustion. I am helpless and utterly alone. I stare at the ceiling, wishing for the thousandth time that I will awake in my bedroom at home to the sound of my mother cooking breakfast, and knowing that I won't. I will settle instead for the minuscule blessing of peaceful dreams, and tomorrow I will wake and do it all over again. 


	4. Allen: Dance of Loss

**Title:** **Dance of Curse -- Allen [Dance of Loss]**

**Author:** Jessica Lynn S. (starsapphirez@aol.com)

**Rating:** PG-13 for violent content, heavy themes and some language as well.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own or claim to own Escaflowne, or anything from it. However, I have worked hard on this story, so please do not take it for any purpose without my permission. There are some spoilers here for those who have not seen the entire series; read at your own risk.

**Summary:** Set mid-series, a common heartbeat of torment echoes in the late-night contemplations of five different characters, caught up in the battle for Gaea. Featuring Van, Folken, Hitomi, Allen and Dilandu. 

**Note:** Despite the fact that I do not feel I can relate particuarly well to Allen's character, I am pleased with the results here. This chapter is dedicated to Desi, because I probably wouldn't have even wrote it if she hadn't asked me to write something from Allen's viewpoint. (Since I wrote this for ya, Des, you damn well better review it...hehe.) 

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I sit on the edge of a stone wall, polishing every last scratch out of the blade of my sword, trying not to look at my reflection. I am trying not to think of myself. I am trying not to look to deep, but it is inevitable in these quiet hours when I am alone. When we came to Freid, I finally saw him. I finally saw the small blue-eyed boy whom I have desired to see with all my heart since I first heard of his conception. When we were locked away I begged him to have the strength to believe in us, and then I held a nail file to his throat like a knife to save Hitomi's life. Despite that, he looks at me with such wonder in his eyes, recalling all the stories his mother told him. Apparently even through the passing of the years, Marlene hadn't forgotten me. 

Chid has my blue eyes and golden hair; though his is of a more delicate shade, like his mother's. That is all I can see of myself in him. I do not see my emptiness or hidden weaknesses; I see only Marlene's strength and compassionate spirit. Then again, Marlene would have claimed that was only a matter of perception. For that brief time we were together, she and I both held eachother in only the highest esteem while thinking less of ourselves. I still believe that she was the better among us, and I wonder - for that reason - why it is I who still lives. I know that weakness and emptiness were not as prominent within me before she was torn from my life, her presence had all but abated the ache I felt from the loss of my entire family. I loved her genuinely and boldly. I really shouldn't have. I should have known it could not last. I should have known it would cost us dearly. 

Well, I think we both knew, we just tried to deny it. We fantasized that we would stay as we were forever, but it was only a matter of months. Love between a knight and a princess is something this world never allows. She had to fulfill her duty, and even in my sorrow I had to continue mine. Even years later when I learned of her death, I hid the pain beneath the layers of my Caeli uniform and my chivalrous manner. I conduct my existance as a dance; a series of elegant and carefully ploted steps. The people around me know nothing of how I truly feel. Especially not Millernia, who wants me now as her sister had. I would rather have her suffer the pain of an unrequited love than the pain of seperation, as Marlene was forced to. 

I could never love Millernia anyway. She looks and acts like Marlene in many ways, but she is not Marlene. It would be a disservice to her for me to use her simply as a replacement for the only woman I have ever really loved. She is young and she is strong. She does not need to be weighed down by the heaviness of my existance. Her petals need not be tainted with sorrow. 

Isn't it funny that I compare her to a flower? My mother loved flowers so much, and in that I find a strange metaphor. Every woman in my life has been like a flower. Mother and Marlene bloomed briefly in the sunlight of love, then wilted away with the coming of winter; in the seperation and saddness love inevitably brings. Celena, on the other hand, was picked from the garden before she could even bloom, never to be seen again. I still hope that she lives and that someday I will find her, so that not all will be lost. So that I will not be completely and totally alone in this world. It is a foolish hope, but it keeps me breathing. 

I am glad that Mahad accepted Chid as his own son, even though he knew without a doubt his true heritage. He would have only needed to chart the days back from his birth to know that Chid was conceived weeks before he ever touched Marlene. But it makes me sad too, that Chid cannot know the truth and that I cannot be a proper father to him. That is yet another loss which I will mourn for an eternity, even if it is only the principle of it. I have learned in life that it always costs to love. It always hurts to love. It always hurts to fight, and it even hurts to breathe. Basically it hurts to live, but I do it anyway. 

I am wasting my time with these thoughts again, there is war at hand. Now, as always, I need to push the unbearable sorrow and guilt down beneath the iridescent exterior and attend to my duties. Perhaps I will seek out Van and engage him in a sparring match to keep my skills sharp and my mind distracted. He is generally up and wandering about at this hour of the night. I will go scratch up my freshly-polished sword all over again, and I can't help but laugh at the irony. 


	5. Dilandu: Dance of Flame

**Title:** **Dance of Curse -- Dilandu [Dance of Flame]**

**Author:** Jessica Lynn S. (starsapphirez@aol.com)

**Rating:** PG-13 for violent content, heavy themes and some language as well.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own or claim to own Escaflowne, or anything from it. However, I have worked hard on this story, so please do not take it for any purpose without my permission. There are some spoilers here for those who have not seen the entire series; read at your own risk.

**Summary:** Set mid-series, a tormented heartbeat echoes in the late-night contemplations of five different characters, caught up in the battle for Gaea. Featuring Van, Folken, Hitomi, Allen and Dilandu. 

**Note:** Dilandu was definitely the most challenging character to write. The others are troubled without a doubt; but none of them are certifiably, clinically insane. I think it's safe to say that Dilandu is...heh. This is the shortest chapter, but I feel that it was effective. Feedback is highly appreciated; thanks for taking the time to read my work.

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They say that severed nerves make deep wounds numb, but I feel my heartbeat throbbing in my cheek and I am more aware of that sensation than any other in my entire body. It is not the pain I detest, as much as the throbbing. It is the throbbing of a need which needs desperately to be relieved, a need for battle and destruction. It is a need for flames, glorious and beautiful flames licking the night-time sky in a violent spiral dance; flames tasting and ravenously consuming everything in their path. Nothing can stand against them. Even metal eventually gives way to the heat, and that's when the fire is most remarkable. Different metals burn different colors, at different temperatures. It gives me great satisfaction to see a guymelef go up in a fierce column of green or lavender sparks. In those moments I feel like a god; a fierce and untouchable diety. The escalation is beyond orgasmic. Those are the moments that I live for. I itch for such a moment now. I would gladly set fire to my own room, if they would allow me. They won't. 

I care little for the master plan of Emperor Dornkirk, I care only that he gives me the means to wreak immeasurable amounts of devastation on his enemies. I want to tear Van limb-from-limb; partially because he marred my beautiful face, but mostly just because I can. The same goes for the bitch from the Mystic Moon who always seems to help him escape. She keeps me from my prize. Usually I love a good challenge, but I tire fast of the cat-and-mouse games we play. I do not want to wait for the mouse to emerge from it's hole. I want to rip down the wall and burn it out. 

With time I become more impatient; more defiant. I tire of the lectures Strategos gives me on how we must bide our time. He parades around with that tear tattooed on his face like he knows everything. He knows nothing of this bloodlustand the desperate madness which drives it. I detest that he makes me wait for politics and other nonsense, when I could dominate all of Gaea easily and instantaneously if he would only say the word. I look forward to that domination, but not to the result. I fear when that moment will come; that moment when all of Gaea is wrapped around the long and crooked finger of the Zaibach empire. I will no longer be of use to them, and I am not stupid. I know they are likely to try to do away with me. Then I will just have to burn them too. They will go just as easily as everyone else; my dragonslayers will stand behind me. Or will they? I am hesitant to trust anyone in this world. What happens when there is nothing left to burn? What happens when I am alone? 

What instills within me this passion for fire and murder which no one else can understand? My past is like a dream, which one knows took place, but yet they cannot remember any of the details. In the silence of the night, the elusive dreams come, forgotten as soon as I wake. But they leave behind a thick residue of fear stronger than any hate I've ever known. Fear. Abandonment. Fear. Abandonment. The throbbing feels harder still. It becomes all-encompassing. I suddenly desire to smack my head into a wall, if that is what will end it. Damn it, I need to burn something now! I need to crush something large and powerful as easily as a moth in my palm. The need overflows within me, like an abcess on the verge of rupture. My body convulses in painful frenzy as hot tears of frusturation stream down my cheeks. I need to burn something now. 


End file.
